The Draw
by Let me rule
Summary: The long, dragged-out, give-'em-hell version of what happened after Sam cured Dean. Spoiler alert- it ain't a tearful reunion. Coda to 10x03 Soul Survivor


_Are you drifting way beyond what's normal?_  
 _'Cause 'round your mind rings the words that they would say?_  
 _When you go home everything looks different,_  
 _And you're scared of being left behind._

 _I can feel the draw_  
 _I can feel it pulling me back._

* * *

 **"** You look worried, fellas." Dean choked out weakly.

Sam let out a strangled sob and dropped the syringe. In a moment, he had thrown his arms around his brothers' shoulders.

Sam's dead weight fell painfully on Dean and he bit down on his tongue. After all, Dean had just attempted to murder his kid brother with a hammer; the man deserved a little R&R.

Sam seemed to recover and cut the bonds off of Dean. He was smiling,crying and talking so fast Dean couldn't understand a word. Something loosened around his ankles and Sam hauled Dean to his feet.

Shit.

As soon as he was standing, Dean knew something was wrong. The room was blurry, Sam's talking garbled.

And then nothing.

* * *

Cold. Cold cold cold cold cold fucking freezing. He shivered violently, tried to get some air. Even colder water rushed into his mouth and he choked. Yelling, loud. And then something grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up, hard.

"Dean? DEAN!"

Dean doubled over, feeling his lungs afire as water tried to expel itself. Big hands thumped him on the back and water spewed out of his mouth. Dean gasped in warm air.

Sam's worried, bruised face swam into his vision. Dean was still hyperventilating when a thick towel was thrown over his shoulders.

Sam picked him up, placed him on a tile floor and Dean found himself in the bunker bathroom next to a first aid kit.

Sam crouched beside him and roughly felt his forehead.

"You had a fever damn near 105, collapsed in the dungeon. I couldn't get you to wake up."

Was that why his eyes burned, his head swayed and his chest hurt? The entire room intensified and Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get his breathing under control.

Why was Sam taking care of him?

* * *

Dean looked like Death. He was a pale yellow, his eyes rimmed red. He sat,wet,shivering and barely clothed,leaning on the tub. As Sam reached over to pull out the cold bath, he saw red tinges of what Dean had heaved. No one ever said what the consequences of curing a demon were.

"We need to get you warmed up." Sam heard himself say. He filled the tub yet again with lukewarm water and lifted his brother up. Dean was shivering hard, and couldn't seem to control it. He relaxed as he hit the water.

2 hours ago, Dean had been baring his teeth in animalistic rage, trying to murder Sam. Now he was dozing in a bathtub with cheeks ruddy from fever.

"Sam, how is he?" Sam startled, then cursed. He'd forgotten about Cas.

The angel stood in the doorway, looking worriedly at Dean.

"Sick, Cas. I think it really took a toll on him."

"Should I..." Cas gestured towards the door.

Sam shook his head. Dean would kill him if Cas left.

" No, stay. Just give me a little time to get him situated."

A half smile twitched on Cas' face.

"Alright."

* * *

Dean woke up when Sam dumped him on his bed and covered him with blankets. In hindsight, "woke up" was a strong word.

"S'mmy.." It was slurred and quiet and made Sam freeze where he was.

Dean was tossing his head sluggishly. Sam crossed the bedroom in milliseconds.

"How are you feeling?"

His only response was to cough, a wet hacking thing. His eyes fluttered closed. Sam bit his lip and turned to turn off the light. He was about to close the door when he heard Dean whisper.

"I almost killed you...I was gonna kill you-" That was all Sam got before he slammed the door shut, knuckles white on the doorknob. As he walked shakily down the hall, Sam pretended not to hear the sob that drafted under the door.

* * *

Cas had left. Something about an angel killing. He promised to be back within a few days.

Sam crumpled up the note scrawled with the angels messy handwriting and threw it across the kitchen.

" Hey Sammy." He felt his heart leap into his chest; Sam's hand jerked for his knife - he hit the coffee mug and it spilled all over the table-

"Godfuckingshitdammit"

Dean had frozen in the doorway. If possible, he was paler than last night. All the color seemed to have receded from his face, he was all freckles and green eyes. Those eyes flickered from the knife in Sam's hand to the steaming coffee slowly dripping from the table unto tile.

Sam took a deep breath. Set down the knife. Closed his eyes.

" Dean."

His older brother shuffled forward as if every step was agonizing. When he sat, it seemed more like relieved collapsing. He didn't even react when Sam felt his forehead (which was still burning).

"Why are you out of bed?" Sam asked wearily. Dean made a noncommittal noise.

"Didn't wanna stay in there." Was the muffled reply.

"Yeah, well, you're going back to bed. " Sam grabbed his brother's shoulders and half-carried him to his bedroom.

Dean was asleep before Sam covered him up again.

* * *

Sam was jerked awake to the sound of retching. It was familiar. Between Dean, who had always had a sensitive stomach, and John, who had been drunk more often than sober, Sam's childhood was filled with the sound. He had rolled out of bed and was already in the hallway before he shook himself fully awake. The door to the dark bathroom was open, and Sam could see the silhouette of someone hunched over the toilet. There was a terrible noise, somewhere between a sob and forced upheaval. The shape tensed up.

"Dean?" Sam stumbled into the room, feeling for a switch. When the fluorescent lights flickered on, Sam nearly puked himself. Dean was collapsed over the toilet, body clenched with the force of how hard he was retching. Puke trailed from the door to Dean. His older brother's back was soaked with sweat.

"Fuck."

Sam was at Dean's side in an instant, steadying his wavering shoulders. Dean jumped at the touch.

" 'M fine..go back" a loud retch. "T'bed."

"Yeah, uh huh...Jesus, Dean!" Sam started as Dean nearly hacked up a lung.

It took Dean 15 minutes to be able to take his head out of the toilet. He dragged it out slowly, running the heel of his hand over his mouth.

"Oh my God."

If Death was around, he would have attempted to take Dean's soul. Somehow worse than that morning, Dean's eyes were rimmed with red. Several vessels had burst in his pupils, earning a splotchy bloodshot look. There was no color in his face at all, besides the ruddy fever cheeks. Tears had made a track down his cheeks. the most disturbing was the blood. It covered his lips and dripped down his chin.

Eyes half closed with exhaustion, Dean tried to speak again, but only succeeded in coughing violently. Red dribbled down his chin.

 _Stay calm, Sam._

"Don't talk." He ordered his brother. " Stay still. " Looking around, he grabbed a washcloth and gently wiped off Dean's chin. Then he turned all the faucets and showers on max heat, pausing only when Dean began a bout of coughing and retching again and tried to drag himself into the toilet. Steam began to fill the room. They sat, hunching over the toilet, Sam rubbing absent-minded circles into Dean's shoulders, waiting for the steam to help.

* * *

Dean woke up to the very urgent need to get to the bathroom. He didn't make it. An acid fire burnt in his throat as the minimal amounts of water Sam made him drink made a reappearance. He white-knuckled the toilet rim. His throat was being ripped apart, can't breath-

"Dean?"

 _Sam. It was Sam, oh thank God._

His brother's hands anchored his shoulders, but they didn't help how his stomach was attempting to rip itself apart.

After hours of alternating between /shit I can't breath/ and /please god kill me now/, Dean took a breather. Sam was exhausted ( and slightly blurry) rubbing Dean's shoulders.

"I'm fine" dean said hoarsely, instantly regretting the words as he dove back into the bowl. Nothing came up, so he wiped his mouth. " go back t'bed. "

He didn't really expect Sam to actually get up. But he didn't leave the room, only turned on every single faucet to its hottest capacity, then sat back down again.

 _What-_ Dean made to speak again, but Sam hushed him.

" Don't talk. Stay still." His younger brother said in an overly loud voice (or maybe he was overly sensitive?).

The room was getting warmer and steamier, and the acrid stabbing in his throat was dulling. Dean didn't realize he had closed his eyes until he felt a towel rubbing his mouth and he snapped them open.

Sam pulled the towel away and rinsed it in the sink. There was a red splotch that turned to pink swirling under the water.

Wait.

Blood?

Sure his throat hurt, but _shit._

Sam didn't seem surprised. He crouched down beside Dean and roughly felt his forehead.

Unwarranted, Dean remembered a terrifying day where Sam's bloody tissues overflowed and Sam was curled up in a feverish heap. He only got worse, more sluggish and less like to respond when Dean called, and Dean could only remember feeling so scared-

" D?" Sam voice was hoarse. Dean forced himself to open his eyes.

* * *

Dean couldn't stay awake. When Sam (selfishly) called his name, he dragged his eyes open and looked around glassily.

"Bed?" He asked his older brother. The nod back was tiny.

"OK," Sam breathed.

No matter how many times Sam teased his brother about the three inches and twenty pounds he had on him,Dean was still a big dude. They moved down the hallway, stopping twice so Dean could double over, gasping. Finally, Dean's bedroom. When he switched the light, Sam could see a large red stain on the pillow case.

" Idiot. " Sam swore under his breath. Dean was tired out and could barely shuffle forward.

Sam deposited Dean at the foot of the bed, where he promptly lay down and closed his eyes.

Sam jogged back to his room and grabbed the pillows and blankets from his bed. He set Dean in a position that was more sitting than laying and set a bowl on the bedside table.

He couldn't leave Dean, not like this. So he crawled onto the side of the bed.

He was asleep before his head touched the pillow.

* * *

"...Should I come back later?"

A hoarse voice snapped Sam from sleep. Blearily, he started to sit up. He reached for the water on his bedside table (damn, his throat was dry) but his hand met air. The room around him sharpened. No TV, more magazines. A crumpled heap of flannels on the ground. An abandoned pie that was surely attracting ants? Dean's room, not his. Sure enough, Dean was right next to him in a coma like sleep. Dried blood stained his cracked lips.

"Sam?" Sam turned his head so fast, he probably had whiplash. Cas stood in the doorway, clearly unsure of whether or not to enter.

"Cas." Sam relaxed. "You scared me. "

"Should I come back later?" The angel repeated.

"No, uh, let's talk in the kitchen. " Cas nodded and was gone in a flurry of wings. As Sam stumbled tiredly after him, he couldn't help but wonder if Jimmy's body was severely out of shape, considering how little walking Cas did.

* * *

Dean woke up alone. Someone had propped him up on several pillows(more than he owned) and drowned him in blankets.

 _Aw, shit._ His tongue felt like sandpaper and his throat like sand.

There was muffled talking down the hall. It could only be two things: Sam talking on the phone or to Cas.

 _Alright, out of bed, ya freeloader._

Easier said than done. Even moving his head made him so dizzy he could hurl (probably would, too).

 _Ok. Slowly. Very slowly._

"-me a sec, let me check on Dean," Sam's voice drifted down the hall, accompanied by heavy footfalls. The door swung open to reveal a very tired, disheveled Sam.

He stared for a moment, then rushed to the bed.

"Dean!" He hissed, in a tone halfway between worry and anger. " Don't get out of bed." Sam pushed him down again. _P_ _robably a good idea._ He felt better laying down, as Sam readjusted his pillow to let him breathe.

Satisfied that Dean wasn't going to fall out of bed and have a seizure, Sam sat on the edge.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"Fi-" Dean attempted to answer, but the small movement caused a large chain reaction, and he found himself in the midst of a coughing fit.

Automatically, expectedly, Sam started to thump his back.

Dean cleared his throat and tried again.

" I feel fine."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Right." he grabbed a water bottle from the bedside table and handed it to Dean, who looked at it warily.

"Dude, you wanna get dehydrated on top of everything else?"

Dean scowled and took a small sip.

" Is everything OK?" Cas wavered in the door, looking anxious.

Ha. Knew it, Dean thought.

" Uh, yeah, Dean's just an idiot." Sam rubbed his face tiredly. " Come on in."

Cas came in and leaned on Dean's dresser.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

Dean bit back a laugh. Well, 48 hours ago, he'd tried to bust his brother's skull in. Then, he had collapsed in a feverish heap and was dumped into an ice bath. Oh yeah, and he'd spent all of last night puking.

"Great." Dean answered. Cas looked unconvinced.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, gathering trash.

"Speaking of blatant lies," his little brother said. " When were you gonna tell me about the blood?"

"What blood?" Cas asked, standing in alarm.

Dean gave Sam a look. It had only started last night. He'd kinda forgotten.

"I wasn't _hiding_ it. Besides, you really wanna talk about hiding blood?"

"That was two years ago, asshole."

"What blood?" Cas repeated.

Sam whirled around, holding up a pillow, stained a crusty red.

"Dean's been coughing up blood. Puking it, too."

"Jesus, Sam, is the evidence really-" Dean broke off into coughs. Sam dropped the pillow and helped his brother sit up.

Cas started pacing the room.

"I can't heal him." He said, running his hands through his hair.

"Why not?" Dean asked raspily.

"The Mark, Dean. I can't heal a demon."

"He's not a demon." Sam said sharply.

" I know. But it won't work." said Cas in distress.

It was silent. Dean rubbed his forearm.

"Maybe we should bring you to a doctor." Sam finally spoke.

" What would we tell him? 'Hey, here's my brother. He was a demon but I injected him with a couple gallons of human blood, so now he's human, but he got really sick. ' Huh?" Dean said crossly.

" Don't tell'em anything, 'cept that you've got a fever, nausea, and blood."

" No."

"I could take him right now." Cas offered, eyes glowing slightly bluer.

"Fuck no." Dean said. He threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.

"No, thanks Cas. I'm gonna give him one more day. If you're not better by tomorrow, we're driving to the hospital." Sam said with an air of finality.

"Fine. Whatever." Dean turned slowly on his side and closing his eyes, trying to lessen the throbbing in his head.

"Fine." Sam motioned for Cas to follow him, and left Dean to sleep.

* * *

The next day wouldn't bring a Dean who had bounced back, ready to start fighting monsters. It brought a Dean whose fever raised itself by several degrees, leaving Dean a sweaty, shivery mess. It brought a Dean who left bloodstains on his pillows. It brought a Dean, who, when he started to throw up over the edge of his bed, actually started to cry.

It was 2:49 AM. Sam felt like crying himself as he threw another soiled t shirt in the laundry bin. In the past 56 hours, he had gotten 4 hours of sleep.

"S'mmy" Dean slurred. Sam started. He thought that his older brother was sleeping. "G'to bed. 'M fine."

Sam almost laughed. The last time he had tried that, collapsing next to Dean on the bed, he had woken to Dean choking on blood and bile.

"Go to sleep, Dean."

Sam crossed the room and opened the door. red light from hallway spilled into the room.

"Cas?"

"Hm?" Cas materialized instantly.

"Dude, you mind watching Dean for a few hours? If I don't get some sleep I'm gonna keel over."

"Yes, of course."

"Sorry. I'd ask Charlie or Kevin, but..." They're missing or dead.

"No it's fine. I'm glad to do it. "

" OK. I'm just gonna crash on the couch. It's closer than my room. Wake me up if you need me."

Sam slumped passed Cas. In the library, he all but fell onto the couch, not even bothering with a blanket.

* * *

Dean's room smelled like a hospital, though Dean himself was far from sterile. Cas sat on a chair, overseeing the room. It was dirty, with stained t-shirts piled in the corner and a couple of books scattered on the ground, but undeniably Dean's. Pictures were hung over his desk, of him and Sam, of his mother, of Bobby and Jo and Ellen, of Cas and Dean. Old records were stacked next to a record player. If nothing else, Cas was glad Dean was going through this in a place where he was comfortable.

* * *

Nothing happened for a few hours.

And then everything happened.

It started slow. Dean coughed a bit. And then some more. And more. And then his eyes flew open, he was grabbing his throat.

"Dean?" Cas grabbed him by the shoulders and roughly forced him to sit up.

Dean's eyes were panicked, he was getting paler and paler. The coughs got shallower and more forceful, blood started to dribble from his mouth.

And then his eyes rolled back and he began convulsing.

"SAM!" Cas yelled. "SAM, SOMETHING'S WRONG."

There was pounding in the hallway and the door to the room flew open.

"Dean!" Sam rushed to the bed. "Fuck, it's a seizure. He needs to go to the hospital. Now." Cas understood. He laid a hand on Dean's shaking shoulder and one on Sam's, and they went.

* * *

It was raining. Of course it was raining. Cas had brought them to the outside of the ER. Cas supported Dean, who was slumped over, unconscious. Sam grabbed his brother's other side, and together, they carried him into the hospital.

"Please, help!" Sam yelled as they came in. "Please, he's really sick." A nurse felt Dean's forehead.

"I need a gurney here, STAT! Call a respiratory code, he needs to be intubated."

Two aides came and took Dean from Sam. They laid him on a stretcher and all but ran him past some doors.

"Wait here." A nurse told Sam. " Someone will come for you in a few minutes."

"Wait-" But the nurse had already rushed off and left Sam helpless.

"Sam. Come sit down." Cas said. Sam collapsed next to the angel, rubbing his face. There was a blood running from his shoulder down the length of shirt and he wasn't wearing shoes.

"I shouldn't have left him." Sam muttered.

" It would have happened either way."

"I should not have left him." Sam repeated.

* * *

Some nurse came by and asked questions. Sam gave her the insurance information of one Howard Stark, gave her the bullshit lie about this illness just occurring.

Finally, they let them see Dean. There were a million signs that Dean's condition was serious.

One. He had a private room. Usually, they were stuck with broken wrists in a cubicle, surrounded by people.

Two. The curtains were drawn.

Three. Nurses were running in and out of the room almost nonstop.

Four. They made Sam and Cas don protective gear before they entered.

Five. They entered, and Sam almost gagged. A tube was coming directly from Dean's throat. A doctor was securing gauze around it.

"What's going on?" Sam asked urgently, crossing the room.

The doctor shrugged. " At this point, it looks like a severe respiratory infection. But we're not certain."

"The seizures?"

"Again, not sure. It could have been fever induced."

The doctor left, and Sam looked at his brother's still form. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Sam." Someone was shaking his shoulder." Sam!" It was Cas, holding a coffee.

It was at least midday. Bright light streamed into the room.

"Thanks." Sam accepted the drink and sat up slowly.

Dean was the same.

* * *

Nurses started Dean on heavy antibiotics.

Sam started himself on daytime tv. Dr Sexy, of course.

Cas popped in and out. There'd been another angel killing, but Cas put Hannah to it, mostly staying in the hospital.

It was near evening when Dean woke up.

His heart started to increase, setting off a monitor, which woke Sam up. Sam got up.

"Dean? You there?"

Dean's head moved a bit to the side. His hands twitched. His eyes snapped open.

"Holy shi- FUCK." Sam stumbled backwards, foot catching on the bed.

Dean's eyes were black. Black as hell. Sam fumbled for holy water, but the black faded into bloodshot green. They widened in panic.

Dean tried to talk, but only succeeded in making choking coughs. A nurse rushed in.

"Hey, honey," She soothed. "You've got a tube, you can't talk. It's gonna come out real soon, I promise." The nurse injected something into Dean's IV, and Dean drifted off into a twilight. Finally, the nurse looked at Sam, who was still sprawled across the floor in shock.

" Y'alright there, hun?" She asked, offering Sam a hand up.

"Uh, yeah. Just, uh, he startled me." Sam lied.

The nurse scoffed.

" Yeah, he's a real fright." She nodded at Dean, whose head was lolled over.

She left the room.

* * *

Sam walked over to the bed and felt Dean's forehead. His phone buzzed, and Sam answered it without thinking.

" Hey, Cas."

"How is he?"

"Uh, not good. Cas, he woke up, and...his eyes. They were black."

"WHAT?" Sam heard a thud, and multiple muffled swears. There was some scratching, and Cas said:

"Are they still black?"

"No, they went back to normal."

"Sam, I'm coming. Do not leave that room."

As usual, the angel hung up with a goodbye.

* * *

Dean was better the next day. He even smiled lazily at the nurse who came in to check on him.

"Respiratory therapist is coming in a few minutes to see if he's ready to get that tube out. It's been in for 48 hours, and unless it's long-term, we don't like keeping it in." The nurse informed Sam. He leaned over the bed with a small flashlight.

"Howard, can you open your eyes for me?" He asked clearly. Dean didn't move.

"Uh, try Dean. Nickname. Had it since he was a kid." Sam lied hastily. The nurse shrugged.

"Dean, open your eyes please."

Dean dragged his eyes open slowly, and Sam held his breath.

They were green, thank God.

"Great!" The nurse praised. He checked a few other things, then left.

* * *

The respiratory therapist gave the okay. Sam watched as they carefully removed the tube from his throat and bandaged the wound they left behind. They replaced with an oxygen mask and started to wean him from anesthetic.

Cas came back. He stood, arms crossed, at the foot of Dean's bed.

"It wasn't a complete cure." He said.

"I know." Sam didn't even bother to get up from his chair. "So what do we do now?"

"The mark. Sam, we brought Dean back from the brink, but he's still standing on the cliff. We've got to get rid of the mark.

" How do we do that?" Now, Sam got up and joined Cas. The mark burned red on Dean's exposed arm. Sam resisted the urge to cut it off.

"I don't know. "

Dean chose this moment to wake up, staring blearily at his brother and best friend. His eyes, however red, were not black. Sam wondered if he'd ever stop checking.

Slowly, Dean reached up and pulled the oxygen mask from his mouth.

"You-" Dean took a shallow breath. " You look worried, fellas."


End file.
